


The Brains of Castamere

by MrProphet



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:44:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrProphet/pseuds/MrProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Game of Thrones is produced by HBO, based on the books by George RR Martin.</p></blockquote>





	The Brains of Castamere

The wedding was done, the blood spilled, but Walder Frey’s vengeance was not yet complete. He stood in the spreading pool of his child-bride’s blood, as his men dragged the massive corpse of the direwolf Grey Wind into the great hall.

“Get on with it,” he snapped. “No use putting on the show after all the audience are dead. I want the last of his bannermen to see their ‘Young Wolf’ in all his glory, and there won’t be any left in an hour.”

The soldiers lifted Robb Stark’s body to a bench and bent him backwards over the table to expose his throat. Malcolm lifted his sword and brought it swinging down. Frey waited eagerly for the crack of bone and the splinter of wood as the blade bit home, but all he heard was a dull slap like leather on leather. Robb Stark’s dead hand had risen and caught the arm bringing the sword towards his throat.

Chairs scattered as the direwolf hauled himself to his feet. His lips drew back, but instead of a low growl a soft hiss emerged from its throat in a pall of icy mist. His eyes were pale, but his teeth still sharp. 

Malcolm struggled to free his arm from Stark’s grip, at first with anger and then with rising panic. The other soldiers began to back away warily; Malcolm’s wrist cracked under the force of Stark’s grip and he dropped his sword.

Frey opened his mouth to order his men to the attack, but a cold hand seized his shoulder and spun him around. Catelyn Stark’s eyes bore the same ice-pale cataracts as the wolf’s, and her throat still hung open where the blade had slashed across it. She was dead, and yet her limbs moved and she held her betrayer with fierce strength. For a moment she regarded him, and then was upon him in a frenzy of crushing hands and teeth, even as her son’s corpse rose to join the slaughter.

*

The great horse ran headlong in panic. Arya could barely make out anything as they thundered through the camp where her brother’s army had rested, been slaughtered, and then risen again to crush their killers. Only two things truly struck home as she bounced uncomfortably against the Hound’s armoured chest.

The first was the air, which grew cold around them, the temperature falling too fast and too far even for a Northern night.  
The second was the rider on the pale horse, who watched them go with eyes like blue fire.

“Looks like your family were wrong,” the Hound remarked when they finally stopped to rest their exhausted steed. “Winter’s not coming; it’s already here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Game of Thrones is produced by HBO, based on the books by George RR Martin.


End file.
